


no rest for the weary

by sannlykke



Category: Thunderbolt Fantasy 東離劍遊紀 (TV)
Genre: M/M, Movie Spoilers, Post-Canon, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 13:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13055226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sannlykke/pseuds/sannlykke
Summary: [youtube video titled "shang screaming 'lin shut the fuck up' for 10 minutes"]





	no rest for the weary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thimble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thimble/gifts).



> sorry

“Oh dear,” Lin says, prodding the body on the floor with a toe. “That was a little too violent. Thought you were done killing people?”

Shang feels his blood pressure start to rise. “He's not fucking dead.”

The entire mess with Mie Tian-hai had been annoying, but now that Lin Xue-ya had found it in his favor to continue tormenting Shang with his presence…maybe coming to Dong Li had been a mistake after all. Maybe he’d rather have the emperor’s men chase him around until the end of time back in Xi You, because at least there wasn’t also a thief there trying to fuck up his life by appearing whenever it was least convenient.

It wasn’t like Shang _wanted_ to come into any sort of contact with Lin again. He had certainly expected the scattered remnants of the Onyx Demons ambushing him at some point, but not the sort of slander (and merchandise: regrettably, Lin’s talents do not translate to portraiture) the thief had been spreading throughout the nearby villages. The only prudent thing for Shang to do would be to yank him away before he could do any lasting harm on whatever poor soul got suckered into his lies again.

Though that could only bite him in the ass later on.

Lin taps the table thoughtfully, standing up as the rest of the pub’s clientele flees through the doors. Shang had only wanted to teach the mugger a lesson; he indicates as much to the pub owner, who’s currently cowering behind the counter. “Lin, if you did _anything_ —“

“What makes you think I’m into—“

Shang clamps a hand over his mouth and hauls him out the door.

 

 

The thing is, when Lin isn’t trying to rope Shang into all kinds of trouble, he is…kind of tolerable. Kind of. In the way that one would sometimes tolerate a fly, provided it stays far away and isn’t constantly trying to suck the blood out of anyone.

That being said…

“I never said you killed him,” Lin says with a flourish of his sleeve, as soon as Shang releases him. They’re far enough from the village that no angry mob would come after them, but at least that means Shang can strangle him with no witnesses. “He’s out cold. I just meant, well, you _looked_ mad, and that’s _quite_ unbecoming of a hero—”

“I’m no hero.”

“Hmm.”

“…If this is some sort of scheme you’re cooking up...“

“Shush,” Lin interrupts, lighting his pipe. “Can’t a man think in peace?”

Shang rolls his eyes. “I can’t think of anyone less deserving of peace.”

“Now, we’ve _just_ cleared the land of evil, haven’t we…”

The wisps of smoke starting to rise from the ornate silver pipe only serve to deepen Shang’s mistrust as he sits down, watching Lin smoke. Those are not really fighting words, but coming from Lin’s mouth anything could be a threat at this point. “Whatever. If they’re not coming after us, then we’re done here. I’m leaving.”

“Suit yourself.”

 

 

“Wow, you’re still here,” Lin observes as he sits up from his side of the bed. Only the incessant chirping of morning birds bother to answer him. “I guess I’m too precious to leave alone, huh?”

No answer.

“Hmm.”

“Shut up,” Shang grumbles. It had already been a nightmare last night coming to the outskirts of town with Lin still in tow, running through the rain to this run-down inn, and finding there’d only been one shitty bed left. One. Thankfully he’d slept like a rock last night, ignorant of anything Lin might’ve done up to and including murdering everyone in a five-mile radius. “You’re too terrible to leave alone. Please tell me all you did last night was sleep.”

Lin laughs, slipping his feet into his shoes. “What else would I’d have done? Even a thief needs his rest.”

“You could’ve slept _after_ framing me for the murder of millions.”

“Hey,” Lin says, suddenly serious. Shang stares up at him until his expression shifts again, back to a mocking smile. He frowns. “A good thief never attempts the same con twice.”

Shang rolls over in bed, shaking his head. “…I don’t want to know.”

 

 

“Lin,” Shang says, a hand on the wooden hilt of his blade. “Explain this.”

Lin hums, standing as far away from the door as possible. “I know you may feel an urge to blame me for _some_ things, but I _really_ didn’t send a horde of assassins after you. Promise.”

As much as Shang wants to tell him to shut it, maybe Lin _is_ right this time. The moment Shang had stepped out of the doors he’d caught an arrow in his hand, and then another piercing into the wall had sent him shoving Lin back into the room before slamming the door. Now, observing the ragtag crowd gathered outside, he could tell they are neither Onyx Demons nor the emperor’s soldiers, or angry villagers wanting revenge. And were it an assassin, surely their attacks would be more aggressive than the somewhat measly attempt at his life. Which could only mean—

“Get out here and fight us, Shang Bu-huan!”

“Yeah!”

“If you’re such an awesome swordsman, you’d let us challenge you!”

Shang turns around to look at Lin, who shrugs innocently, throwing up his hands. “…The hell is this.”

“I think you can understand what they’re saying, no?”

“It’s not that! …Lin.”

“Yes?”

“I’m not fighting a bunch of kids.”

“Well, don’t look at me.” Lin smiles, crossing his legs. “I’m sure the great hero Shang Bu-huan wouldn’t mind entertaining some hotblooded youths for a while. Just don’t accidentally trigger another apocalypse.”

Shang glowers at him.

“Or you could just do that and scare them away. Problem solved, right?”

“Actually,” Shang says, another idea dawning on him—a bad one, perhaps, but what the hell. He walks towards Lin, who for the first time looks up at him with genuine confusion. “I can do something else.”

 

 

“That worked,” Lin murmurs, impressed. “Though I must say your impression of me needs quite a lot of tweaking—“

“Heaven forbid I ever have to do that again,” Shang replies, scratching his head and silently marveling at how soft Lin’s hair is, considering the type of life he leads. Still, he pulls the bag off his face and chucks it roughly back towards its owner. “One Lin Xue-ya is enough for this world.”

“Why, thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“I heard you the first time.”

“Good.” Shang surveys the room, making sure they haven’t destroyed anything other than the window—if these kids are green enough to want to challenge him after hearing his name a couple times, it isn’t a huge stretch to think they might be tricked by a simple switcharoo as well. “You don’t think they really think I could fly, do you.”

“Well, they believed we were twins.”

“Right.”

“You do look good with my face.”

“…I’ve also got thirty-five more hot potatoes to get off my hands,” Shang snaps, feeling his face heat up for no particular reason he could think of, “If you’re just going to sit there and bullshit—“

“Then what are you waiting for?” Lin says, grabbing his arm. He’s surprisingly strong, though at this point Shang isn't sure if he should be surprised by anything Lin does anymore. “Let’s go take care of them.”

Maybe things will be easier with two people after all.

 

 

(Of course, they leave in _such_ a hurry that Shang does not see the kids counting out their money behind the inn, all the while reenacting a certain jester’s songs next to the banyan tree.)


End file.
